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THE TRI WEEKLY JOURNAL
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' Atlanta, Georgia.
A BIBLE THOUGHT FOR TODAY.
There came then his brethren and his
mother, and, standing without, sent unto
him, calling him. And the multitude sat
about him, and they said unto him, “Be
hold, thy mother and thy brethren with
out seek for thee. And he ansivered them
saying, “Who is my mother, or my breth
ren?” And he looked round about on
them who sat about him, and said, “Be
hold, my mother and my brethren! For
whosoever shall do the will of God, the
same is my brother, and my sister, and
mother.” —Mark
'As Chill as a Snow Man
A NOT unfriendly observer dryly said of
Mr. . Coolidge’s speech at ths Asso
ciated Press luncheon, “The President
seems to think that the country needs a seda
tive.” Certainly there was nothing in the
utterance to disturb the drowsy, let 1 ' alone to
quicken or to inspire. A Harvard psycholo
gist once remarked that New En-gland had
plenty of ice water, but no art. President
Coolidge, in this address, did not attain to
the pungency even of Ice water. He was as
lukewarm as the mildest of the Laodiceans.
With what a soporific calm he discussed
the great Issues of the day, let his reference
to the World Court attest: “As a result of
American initiative there is already in exist
ence The Hague Tribunal, which is equipped
to function wherever arbitration seems de
sirable, and based in part on that and in part
on the League, there is the International
Court of Justice, which is already function
ing.” Does Mr. Coolidge believe in that In
stitution? About as ardently, It would seem,
aa a. patient believes in his spoon of medi
cine. “A proposal was sent to the last Sen
ate by President Harding,” he continues,
“for our adherence to the covenant establish
ing this court, which I submitted to the fa
vorable consideration of the Senate in my
annual message. Other plans for a World
Court have been broached, but up to the
present, time this has seemed to me the most
practical one. But these proposals for arbi
tration and courts are not put forward by
those who are well informed with the idea
that they could be relied upon as an ade
quate means for entirely preventing war.
They are rather a method of securing adjust
ment of claims and differences, and for the
enforcement of treaties, when the usual
channels of diplomatic negotiation fail to
resolve the difficulty. Proposals also have
been made for th© codification of interna
tional law. Undoubtedly something might
be accomplished in this direction, although a
very large body of such laws consists in un
dertaking to establish rules of warfare and
determining the rights of neutrals.”
Ho, hum. Mr. Coolidge is an able man,
with rare powers of industry and persistence.
But in the handling of this theme his indus
try and persistence apparently were bent
upon extinguishing every spark of interest in
the World Court and related issues. The
country's mind goes back to April a year ago,
when 'Warren G. Harding spoke at the Asso
ciated Press luncheon, and. in words afire
with, a conviction that kindled nation-wide
enthusiasm, pleaded the World Court's claim
upon America's support. Mr. Harding was
doing nis utmost to bring to pass the acces
sion of the United States to that high en
deavor for world equity and peace. Is Presi
dent Coolidge doing his utmost to sink the
issue in a slough of indifference and de
spond? Even the most conservative and
most cautious minds will warm toward a sub
ject that engages their moral interest. Stand
ing before the one great opportunity for in
ternational co-operation which he. as a Re
publican leader, could consistently advocate,
he is as chill as a snow man in a December
sunset. Significant it is, and sadly disap
pointing.
ly and cheerfully see
that things are made
right,
\ye want every sub
scriber to get The Tri-
Weekly Journal reg
ularly and punctual
ly. We want all of
them to receive what
they have paid for.
We want only satis
fied subscribers. A
small percentage' of
errors are unavoid
able, but we want to
correct them quickly.
Address,
THE ATLANTA TRI-WEEKLY JOURNAL
' Our Friend Robin Redbreast
GOOD citizens all, and nature lovers es
pecially, should co-operate to protect
the robins, bluebirds and other feath
ered friends of man that now are migrating
northward. Protection is sorely needed.
Numerous complaints reach The Journal
touching th© destruction of these valuable
birds, which it is Illegal to kill but hun
dreds of which, nevertheless, di© at the
hands of persons who are either grossly ig
i norant or else maliciously defiant of the law.
I
[ All such discovered cases should be report
ed and be vigorously prosecuted.
This is first of all the duty of game war
dens. Their services ar© needed the year
around, and urgently needed in a time when
myriads of useful as well as beautiful birds
ar© greeting us in flight, or tarrying with us
till warmer days. In the nature of things,
however, the wardens alone, vigilant as
they may be, cannot control an evil which
may break forth at any hour in any one
of ten thousand different places. The au
thorities must depend largely on public co
operation. Their readiest and most efficient
aids are, of course, the Boy Scouts, who
know the exceeding worth of birds and are
ever alert to safeguard them against the
ruthless. But there is also a limit what
the Scouts can do. The help of every school
child, of every home owner, of every good
neighbor and good citizen is needed.
The chief offenders, it seems, are boys with
rifles or air guns, and occasionally men, who
have no more sense of what is right and fit
than to shoot, for sheer love of killing, birds
whose species are worth millions of dollars
to Georgia’s farm interests, let alone the de
light they give to all with eyes and ears
for beauty. These violators of the law are
due no tolerance, but in every community
and every neighborhood should be regarded
as the enemies of th© commonwealth.
In “Pilgrim’s Progress” we read: “Then
as they were coming in from abroad, they
espied a little Robin with a great Spider in
his mouth. So the Interpreter said, ‘Look
here!’ So they looked, and Mercy wondered.
But Christiana said, ‘What a disparagement
is It to such a little pretty bird as the Robin
red-breast is ,he being also a bird above
many that loveth to maintain a kind of so
ciableness with man. I had thought they
had lived upon crumbs of bread, or upon
other such harmless matter.’ ” Throughout
the two and a half centuries since Bunyan
wrote, Robin-red-breast has been doing his i
duty against man’s many-millioned insect
foes. Delicate-minded Christiana, if she
were looking on today, would throw him
fresh handfuls of crumbs and count it, not
to his disparagement, but to his glory that
he leaves the world with fewer and fewer
spiders. But as for those enlarged human
insects who prowl about gardens and groves
and woodlands, killing birds that befriend
mankind beyond all measure, these she
would doom to be lodged forever and a
day in the dungeon of the Giant Despair.
THRILL HUNTING
/ By H. Addington Bruce
HOUGH few seem to appreciate it, the
great national pastime today is thrill
hunting. It is a pastime zealously
pursued by people of all and all condi
tions of life. And myriads pursue R day
after day, almost from the moment they open
their eyes in the morning until they close
them in sleep at night.
Nay, there are some so insatiate in their
thrill hunting that they even wake them
selves during the night to get a thrill. Thus
we hear of people who, having installed
radio sets in their homes, tune them to re
ceive from distant parts of the world, and
set alarm-clocks for one or two in the morn
ing that they may then hear something
which perchance will thrill them.
This same craving for a thrill accounts
for the huge circulation of sensational news
papers and magazines, it accounts for the
popularity of melodramas and so-called mys
tery plays, for the colossal sums taken in by
thg promoters of prize fights, wrestling
matches, athletic contests of every kind.
If it were not for the thrill craving,
financial writers would have to chronicle a
habitual state of dullness in the stock mar
ket, and gambling rooms -would be well-nigh
deserted. Police magistrates, too, would
have far less to do, for demonstrably, vice
and crime are largely stimulated by thrill
hunting.
Which suggests, of course, that thrill hunt
ing is not a wholly harmless pastime.
It is the reverse of this. And the dire
fully significant thing is that it. is continually
gaining in favor, so that the growing gener
ation threatens to be a generation of more
ardent hunters than any generation that has
I gone before. Or, in the language, of one
| clear-seeing observer:
“The youth of our day is fed on wonders
| from infancy up, and is ever demanding
lustily, ‘Come on, give us a thrill today.’ ”
Now this rising passion for thrills is, in
part at all events, a product of recent prog
ress in science and invention which has not
only multiplied the means for obtaining
thrills but has so over-estimated the nervous
system by increasing the complexities of ex
istence as to cause an excitability that inten
sifies the thrill craving. And, most unhap
pily, the more the thrill craving is indulged
the stronger it becohies.
Necessarily this means much wasting of
energy that should be conserved for useful
ends. Still worse, it also means individual
and racial exhaustion. The rising tide of
i nervous and mental disease, of vice, crime,
divorce, and other social ills is an ominous
' sign of a condition of which thrill hunting
i is at once a symptom and a cause.
I On© cannot, it must be conceded, check
I th© progress of science and invention. Ex
j istence is certain to become even more com
; plex than at present. But one can at least.
, through the home, the school, and other cd
. ucational agencies, develop habits of thought
I and action that will serve to hold the thrill
J craxing in check.
That is what must be done if society is
Ito be saved from collapse. There are already
I multitudes of people who have learned how
'to lead lives sanely resistive <o the passion
! for thrills. Their example shows what can
■be done what really must be done it civil
ization is to endure.
1 (Copyright, 192 1.)
I SLANDER
BY HAZEL DEYO BACHELOR
What has gone before. —Mirriani Fol-
1 well, a young business woman, has an
episode in her life which, although in
nocent, has caused scandal. She has al
most forgotten it when she becomes en
gaged to Anthony Breen, a stickler for
convention, and then out of the past,
comes a woman who knows everything
and proceeds to make trouble. An
thony believes the worst, but offers to
marry her in spite of it. —Now go on
i with the story.
CHAPTER XXXIX
Good-by!
Y t ERE is your ring,” and Miriam
■ I —l held th© platinum band with its
' "*• glittering stone out to him on her
i slim palm. “I could never marry any man
I who wasn't proud and glad to make me his
wife.”
| Once more she was aloof from him. She
j was the girl who before he had loved her,
| had worn a mantle of reserve through which
|he could not pierce. Looking at her now
I Anthony could not. believe that he had ever
’ held her in his arms, or that she had ever
l loved him.
“Miriam, you don’t know what you’re say-
I ing,” he brought out unsteadily. “I can’t
; give you up now. I couldn't fac© life with
, out you.” He took a step toward her, but
■ she stepped back and shook her head.
“I want you to go now; I’m very tired.”
“You mean you’re going to put me out of
your life for what was a matter of conclu
sion on my part? Y'ou’re not going to give
me a chance to admit I was wrong?”
“You’d never believe me. It isn’t in you
to trust a woman where circumstantial evi
dence is against her. I couldn’t face life
like that. You’d always be in doubt.”
He shook his head, eager to convince her.
He was afraid now; cold fear at the thought
of losing her was welling up in his heart.
He had gone too far; he had said terrible
things to her, but he would make amends.
He would even try to believe that she was
innocent. He would do anything but give
her up.
“Miriam, I was angry, angry and jealous.
Dearest, I do believe you, I can’t help it.
You’ve convinced me.”
But the slim hand that held his ring did
not falter, and she did not draw it back.
There was something irrevocable about the
way she held it out to him, and already
there was a barrier between them, as though
they were merely Strangers.
“I won’t take the ring,” he said hotly.
it, and I’ll go awry now, so that you
can get some rest. I'll’ be here the first
thing tomorrow, and you will feel differently
by then. You’ll realize that it would be as
difficult for you to get along without me as
it would for me to do without you.”
His voice was growing firmer, more as
sured. After all, this would blow over. To
morrow she would be penitent and in tears,
ready to take him back and give him her
love again. Tonight she was tired, over
wrought; she didn’t know what she was
saying.
Miriam turned and placed the ring on a
little mahogany table nearby. Then she
came over to him and held out her hand.
“Good-by, Anthony.”
H© looked at her with tolerant eyes, then
h© said softly: “Good night, dear.' I'll see
you the first thing in the morning.”
He touched his lips to the slim fingers,
and for a second Miriam wavered. Her an
guished eyes rested on his bowed head, and
the thought of what life would mean without
him swept over her with its full force. If
he had caught her in his arms then she
might have weakened. It was the decisive
moment, but he turned away immediately
and left her, and as the hall door closed be
hind him, Miriam sank into a chair and
burst into tears. In all her life she had
never cried as she cried then, but after it
was all over and the frenzied sobbing had
died away into long-drawn sighs, she was
as strongiin her decision as ever. Anthony
Breon had gone out of her life forever. She
would never see him again, the episode was
over!
CHAPTER XL
A Wasted Day
A NIHONY woke the next morning and
realized that he did not feel so sure of
his ground as he had the night before.
There had been finality about Miriam’s atti
tude that he had scoffed at last night, but
that now came back to taunt him. He
sprang from his bed, called Miriam on the
telephone, but the operator with tantalizing
crispness announced that the number
didn t answer. That fact was not particu-
I larly significant, although he had not ex-
I pected her to go to work that day. But he
1 would call her later at Carson & Holland's
, and ask her to lunch with him.
| After a cold shower and breakfast An
( thony felt better. His spirits continued to
, rise, and the incident of last night began to
I lose much of its importance. Os course,
Miriam would be reasonable, she would for
giv© him after he had had a chance to talk
things over with her. But. when at 10:30
I he called up Carson & Holland's and asked
I to speak to Miss Folwell there was a long
I wait and finally the report that Miss Fol
well was in conference with Mr. Carson.
Anthony was frankly annoyed. Again his
suspicions were aroused, but there was noth-
I ing to do but ring off and sav that he would
call later. “Ask Miss Folwell to ring Mr.
I Breen, will you?” He said as an after
| thought.. But when at 12 o'clock she hadn’t
I called him he rang the number again.
| Another long wait, and then, just when
| Anthony s patience was exhausted, came the
i tcpoit that Miss Folwell had gone out to
lunch.
I "Did you give her my message?” An
i thony’s voice was curt.
I “I did, Air. Breen, but she’s very busy this
i morning on a special order. Probably she
i forgot to call, but I'll tell her again as soon
I as she comes in.”
An ominous feeling had settled around
i his heart, as Anthony went out to a solitary
i lunch. Os course, he could not believe that
, Miriam had meant what she said, and vet it
i wasn’t like her to treat his telephone’ calls
I with such scant ceremony. She loved him.
.he knew that. Often she had told him that
| a telephone call from him left her disin
clined for work, no matter how interested
she happened to be.
i “I start dreaming about you, and all my
: ideas leave me,” she had whispered shyly.
: “You see, I love you very much, much more
i than is really good for you.”
Anthony realized with a start that he was
musing on things she had said in the past
, as though he never expected to hear her talk
in -the future. That was absurd.
I "She can't avoid me forever,” ran his
thoughts, ‘"I'll simply storm the place until
I find her at home, and then with my arms
around her I can make her do anything ”
. , a PJ'aientiy Miriam, too. was aware of
this danger, for she did not call Anttionv
at,er she had returned from lunch, nor did
s.ie answer the telephone at the house. An
thony rang at intervals all afternoon and
t eii.iig, and at 9:30 he went down to the
*ee that her windows were dark, and al
t iougn he went upstairs and rang the bell.
" His n °ii°imtion"Ve r e?ened to dismay. . He
was annalled flip though* ♦ hi*
Ito s e him again. He realized at la«t how
! THE COUNTRY HOME
BY MRS. W. H. FELTON
THE STORY OF HARRY THAW
THE Thaws were, and are still, very rich
people in Pittsburg, Pa. They were an
ambitious family because of their
wealth, and the sort of wealth that average
people admire and worship. If I recollect
aright, one daughter married a nobleman,
and doubtless her share of the Thaw mil
lions made the match. There was a young
boy named Harry. Harry would doubtless
have- been able to make himself a financier,
like his dead father, if the Thaw millions
had not made a fool of him.
Harry Thaw went«4he pace. His adoring
mother couldn’t refuse him what he wanted.
He had the money and he lavished it until
he got what he was after. Then he turned
attention to other things he decided he
wanted. Th© very fact of possession les
sened their previous value when once ob
tained.
This is the inevitable result of spendthrift
money. The chasers want things until they
get them, then it is a tame affair. The chase
was the vital part of the business—the snap
in the affair.
In the great city of New York all sorts of
people congregate. There was a very hand
some vamp young woman known as Evelyn
Nesbit. The god she worshiped was money
and what money brings to such butterflies.
Her beauty was her bane. She had at
tracted the at-tention of a very prominent
architect. He had a family and lived a
double life. Her desire for luxury and dress
and what is uppermost in the minds of such
young women led her to sell her pearl of
great price, namely, her virtue, Lo the nran
who lusted after such young women with
beauty. She became the plaything of the
man who was obsessed with her physical
attractions and who was untrue to his own
domestic ties.
But such vamp women are also roving in
their instincts and habits. She encountered
the silly, youthful Harry Thaw, and “laid in
wait” for the foolish creature—she wanted
him. He spent any amount of money on the
woman.
It so happened that the really big man,
who was at heart a bad man, crossed the
path of the vamp and Harry Thaw once too
often. The latter was informed of the hold
that Stanford White had on this woman of
the street, and, strange to tell, this crafty
girl concluded to select a new affinity with
oodles of money and wrench herself loose
from the yoke of the architect, and to make
this possible, and, as she' hoped, easy, she
related to Thaw the story of her concubinage
with Stanford White. She fed him up on
the tyrannical conduct of the man who lav
ished money on her, but claimed to own her,
body, soul and being. To make a long story
short, she was trying to break with the older
libertine to get luxury and money from a
young fool more to her notion, and more
lavish with his inherited fortune.
The Vengeance of the Stupid
By Dr. Frank Crane
WIT has been defined as the art of get
ting oneself disliked.
And certain it is that there is noth
ing more isolating than a reputation for say
ing pointed things.
We admire clever people, but we are afraid
of them.
I do not deny that there is a distinct
pleasure in making bright remarks; the
laughter of the hearers is sweet to the soul;
the admiring glances flatter one’s self-es
teem; we at once move into the spotlight; we
become the circle's '.center, but it is all
bought at a great price—the price of fellow
ship.
The sense of power over one’s fellows is
always sweet. Few forms of it are sweeter
•than the power to astound them, to make
them, laugh.
But we ought not to forget that there is
an edge of bitterness in laughter. There is
no poison like the leavings of railery.
For this reason the last days of a great
wit are likely to be wretched. He finds
himself shunned. He sees with amazement
tliat the dull man is closing his career sur
rounded by loving friends. He cannot un
derstand it.
The reason is simple. Th© clever man has
burned th© commoner, nearer goods of love
and companionship on the aktar fires of
praise.
I knew a preacher who was the wittiest
man in town. He was sought for all festal
occasions; his extemporaneous talks made
the banqueters roar with glee. His bon mots
were quo-ted. He was praised, admired. Then
a little difficulty arose in his church and he
was astounded and chagrined to find the
number and vigor of his enemies. They
arose as one man, also as one woman, and
drove him from his pulpit. I was sorry for
him, for he really was a good fellow. Only
he had paid too dearly for his whistle.
Usually the habit of saying things is the
cover of a sensitive na-ture. Dull, tough
people do not care to be brilliant. R is the
tender, quivering heart that seeks to disguise
its weakness with a ho-t discharge of pointed
arrows.
It is rare to find a woman with a clover
tongue who is generally liked.
We don’t all admire commonplace minds.
Alas! we love them/
That is why the bright girl, quick at re
partee, sparkling with s-tarred speech, is
passed by, and the young man chooses for a
bride the pudding-cheeked and pudding
minded miss, who can only simper and cling.
If one is unfortunately gifted with mental
brilliancy, therefore, one ought to study to
say no wi-tty thing that may rankle.
For the vengeance of the stupid is terrible.
You may sin before them and they may
forgive you; you may deceive them and they
may pardon you; but the lance thrust of a
smile they will not; forgive nor forget; if you
laugh at them or make others laugh at them,
that is the unpardonable sin.
And the wrath of the dull is as a consum
ing fire.
“The heart gives wit,” said Anatole
France, “but wit does not give heart.”
(Copyright, 1924.)
MY FAVORITE STORIES
BY IRVIN COBB
A German composer of distinction, lately
landed, was visiting an American songwriter
at the latter's country place. He manifested
much interest in various typically American
domestic appliances and household conven
iences. What particularly caught his attention
was a sleeping porch, screened in. In broken
English he asked his host the purpose of the
"Why. to keep flies out in the summertime,”
said the Yankee. Still the visitor seemed
perplexed.
"You have flies in Berlin, don't you?’’ asked
the American.
"Sure —millions of dem,” said th p Gorman,
with true Teutonic pride in the products of
his native land.
“Well, what do you do r.t your house to
keep the flies out?'*
"We don’t has to keep dom out.” explained
the foreigner. “Dey alreatty are in.”
much she meant to him, and what it would
mean to have her go out of his life.
“But she can't keep this up forever,"
he though-:. “I'll succeed in cornering her
sooner or later, if I have to sit on the steps
and wait for her to come home.”
Thui'ila.i —“Su-qirnse." Ih-non now to
avoid missing a chapter of this splendid
s|orv.
TUESDAY, APRIL 29, 1921.
I Harry Thaw, with the cave man's instincts,
shot down Stanford White in one of the
I most noted roof garden cases in New York
I City. The multitude saw it done.
J The whole story went into the papers. The
I shameless woman helped to spread it abroad.
. ' It filing a searchlight into the hidden places
■i of high society, and. everything was told
; without reserve—nasty, also raw!
i 1 Th© poor boy told of his grievance, and
, j his poor mother had to wake up to his con-
D dition, the victim of a scarlet woman who
! had made him believe she had been outra
; i geously manhandled by a beast in decent at-
I tire and in high life; and in a passion of
; rage he had shot the seducer who had vic
. I timized a helpless young girl, etc.
i I The trial was the topic of the newspapers.
• i To save him from the electric chair they had
J to pronounce him insane—the usual recourse
| when there is a flood of money to hir© legal
• counsel—to shirk execution because of
I murder.
A long time has passed since Harry Thaw
j went to the criminal insane asylum. Evelyn
i Nesbit bore a child, who is now nearly
grown, which she testified was a Thaw, and
I not a White. With accustomed audacity she
i was the chief figure in Thaw’s latest attempt
to secure his liberty. She and the son of
Harry Thaw, if she has told the truth, are
being pictured in newspaperdom. She evi
dently expects to handle some of the Thaw
millions as guardian of her son. If there
was no Thaw money to be inherited, would
she care a rap as to what happened to the
I mother of'her own victim, the long-suffering
mother of the man who shot down Stanford
| White, egged on by this courtesan who was
anybody’s mistress so long as the money was
j plentiful?
If it should prove an object lesson to hun
l dreds of young men and women who are
1 plunging ahead into similar difficulties the
j public could patiently submit to this nasty
, publicity, for the time being, of the often
told story of Harry Thaw, and the fidelity of
his long-suffering mo-ther.
But it is also well to recollect that the
tendency of this age is toward sexual excite
ment and the flame is fed by such fuel as
i the story of Harry Thaw and the woman
i (who had virtually des-troyed the lives of
I two men who became enamoured with her
■ face and figure) is furnishing to countless
| readers.
She may be an affectionate mother to her
i own child, but what the boy has inherited
from her is more likely to be his bane rather
: than a help. As it looks to outsiders, she is
I figuring on getting a share of Harry Thaw’s
inheritance, by hook or crook, and without
any sense of shame she puts herself in front
to continue him as an inmate of the insane
j asylum.
Theer should be also a place provided
j where scarlet women might be detained to
[save o4her silly men from such vamp cattle.
QUIZ
Any Tri-Weekly Journal reader can
got the answer to any question puzzling
him by writing to The Atlanta Journal
Information Bureau, Frederic J. Has
kin, director, Washington, D; C., and in
closing a two-cent stamp for return
postage. DO NOT SEND IT TO OUR
ATLANTA OFFICE.
Q. When were first modern general cen
suses taken in Europe? A. E. H.
A. Many of the European countries had
crude methods of taking a census in very
early times. In England as early as 1191
William the Conqueror took what may be
termed an agricultural census, the results
being embodied in the Domesday Book. The
modern census originated in Sweden, Eng
land and the United States. In 1746 the
Swedish Academy of Science directed the
clergy to compii© statistics of population,
etc. In Great Britain the census office was
established in 1800, and the first official
census taken in 1801. The first census of
the United States was in 1790. Russia in
1802 established a central bureau for the
purpose. France did th© same after the rev
olution; Prussia, in 1805; Austria, 1828,
and Belgium in 1833.
Q. To what tribe did Pocohontas belong?
E. C.
A. Pocahontas belonged to the Warhun-
Sona-Cook tribe, of which her father was
chief. She warned the English of the at
tacks of the Indians, and furnished food to
the famishing colonists, but it is the rescue
story of Captain John Smith for which she
is chiefly remembered.
Q. What is the exact amount of the
French debt to this country? E. C. 1).
A. On December 11, Secretary of the
Treasury Mellon reported to the senate that
the French debt and unpaid interest due
thereon to the United States totaled $3,990,-
657,605.64.
Q. Where is th© monument to To-mp-chi
chi? M. P. C.
A. To-mo-chi-chi was an American Indian
chief, who lived from 16 12 to 1 739. He
was given a public funeral at Savannah, Ga.,
where a monument was erected to him in
18 99.
Q. When were fireplaces built Into the
wall, with mantelpieces, abutments and bas
ket funnels? J. B. C.
A. This custom did not originate until the
twelfth century.
Q. Does any nation obsere Christmas on
a different day from ours? W. M.
A. In Rumania Christmas is still observed
according 4o the old stile calendar. It
places the date on January 7.
Q. How tall is President Coolidge? W.
J. M.
A. He is 5 feet 10 inches in height.
Q. How much did Washington and Jeffer
son receive as salary while president? E. O.
A. The salary was then $25,000.
Q. When did the Panama revolution take
place? M. P.
A. From 1 846 to 1903 there were fifty
nine revoluntionary outbreaks in Panama.
The revolt which achieved the independence
of the republic occurred on November 3,
1 903. It was largely th© result of the re
fusal of Colombia to accept the plans of
the United States in regard to the construc
tion of the Panama canal.
Q. How many patents were issued last
year? M. G.
A. The patent office says that 83,627 were
issued.
Q. What has become of the rose window
iof the Rheims cathedral? S. C.
A. The great rose window in the west
facade of the Rheims cathedra; was de
stroyed in the fire of Septembe- 19, 1914,
which resulted from incendiary hells.
Q. How is paste made for wallpaper?
M. H.
A. It is usually made of wheat or rye
I flour mixed with water until of the consist
ency of cream. It is then j aced over a fire
and boiling water added s’owly, stirring the
mixture constantly. When of the proper con
sistency, a few drops of carbolic acid may
be added to preserve the paste.
Q. How many children have the King and
Queen of Spain? D. H. J.
A. They have five children.
Q. What is the utility of th© odd little
piece of skin in the corner of the eye? S .1.
A. It no longer has any use. It. is the
remnant of a third eyelid, which in ages past
was used -to dust the eyeball.
Q. What is pointed fox? W. V.
A. “Pointed fox" is imitation silver fox.
It is ordinary red fox dyed black into which
hnirs pvf* on p At the time fiiV”
MYWIFEANDI ■
BY CAROLYN BEECHER
What has gone before —Robert Bruce
Henderson, young lawyer, falls victim to
the charms of Nalalie while on a busi
ness trip and njarries her at once, with
out knowing much about her or her
family. They begin housekeeping in a
New York apartment. Robert's uncle,
for whom he was named, disapproves
of the haste of the wooing and wedding,
but says nothing. Garth Holden, hand
some and wealthy college chum of
Robert, dines wi-th them. Natalie ap
pears not to fancy him, but shows a de
cided liking for Ned Church, a friend
of Bruce, who is pretty much of a male
flirt. —Now go on with Iho story.
CHAPTER VII
I FOUND it hard to talk to Natalie of her
indiscretion in giving so much of het
time to Ned Church. Her air inno
cence, her seeming surprise that I should
object to her being nice to one of my friends,
confused and embarrassed me.
“I thought you wanted me to like your
friends,” she said, looking at me through
half-closed lids.
“I do—most of them. T should have
warned you against Ned. He's indefatigable
in his pursuit of any woman who arouses
his interest for the moment. But he is not.
at all discriminating and it isn’t as much of
a compliment as it appears when he devote#
himself to a new acquaintance.”
“Really—how interesting” she drawled in.
her most musical tones.
“I only wanted to warn you, dear. People
will gossip, you know, and I can’t endure
that you should be criticized.”
“Os course you can, but it isn’t wise to
antagonize people. And I don’t want you to
give them even a semblance of an excuse.”
“In other words I must be like Caesar'S
wife—above reproach. Y’ou should have mar
ried an angel, Bruce. A mere mortal is not
good enough for you.”
“You are too good for me, darling. I
haven’t yet ceased wondering yet how I cam©
to win you.” And forgetting there was such
a person as Ned Church in the world, I
spent the next ten minutes telling her what
a wonderful girl she was. But saying noth
ing of my great love for her.
A few days later I came home a bit earlier
than usual. ’ Natalie was out. When she
returned looking fascinatingly lovely, her
eyes shining, face glowing, I asked:
“Where have you been, dear?”
“I have an ingrained belief that a woman
should not be questioned about her comings
and goings.” She quoted me.
I felt myself flush, an angry answer, sup
pressed with an effort, rose to my lips.
“But dear—” I stammered, “you looked
so happy, so—as if you had been enjoying
yourself, I couldn’t help but be interested.”
“Curiosity killed the cat, y|ou know.”
Again quoting, as n'onchalantly she removed
her hat and gloves.
Dora announced dinner. All through the
meal I felt Natalie was under an excitement.
Looking furtively at her I caught an intro
spective smile touching her lips, her eyes.
She was even gayer than usual, laughing
and talking constantly.
“So you aren’t going to tell me where
you were this afternoon?” I asked as we
left the dining room, my arm about her
waist.
“No indeed! .You made a rule, certainly
I shall not break it. You see it is th©
ethics of the thing. I consider personal
questions bad form.” She had not forgotten
one word I had said to her.
I tried to think that, she was only teasing
me, that later she would toll me. I could
not very well retract what I had said —would
not. But when I remained out business
was the cause, while she had no such ex
cuse. It was my right to know where and
with whom she had spent her leisure hours.
I caught myself. I was quoting her. She
was but getting even—childish-—like a
woman. I would forget all about it. Say
no more.
Garth Holden dropped in about 8 o'clock.
“I took a chance on your being in,” h©
said as w© greeted him.
“And now that you’ve come, you and
Bruce must take me out later, I’m just <
aching for a dance,” Natali© said at once,
mentioning the name of a well-known danc
ing place Io which she wanted to go.
“I’m at your service—as always,” Garth
replied, his eyes only showing surprise. At
what? I wondered. >
I telephoned for a table, as Natalie was
always impatient about waiting to be served,
then we chatted until time to go. Garth
and Natalie were dancing and after watch
ing them a moment I went out in the cor
ridor to walk about and smoke where the
air was better.
When I re-turned thny were busily chat
ting and did not; see me.
“You are indefatigable,” Garth was say
ing. “Dancing all the afternoon and as
fresh tonight as if von hadn't danced for a
week. I don't see how you women do It. It
would kill me.”
So Natali© had been dancing that after
noon and Garth had seen her, known whom
she was with. This accounted for the sur
prised look in his eyes when she was aching
for a dance.
“So here you are,” Natalie turned quick
ly. “Come on, let’s dance.” *
Slip danced perfectly and I was no novice
myself. I never tried to talk to her when
dancing; she disliked to dance with anyone
who did. But my thoughts were as busy
as my feet. I knew Garth never would tell
me he had seen her—of course I couldn't
question him. I cursed myself for my tact
lessness in refusing to tr>U her whore I had
been when I had nothing to conceal. The
green-eyed monster was claiming me. I
was jealous—furiously jealous. She was so
lovely, so tempting.
( ontinued Ihiirsday. Start Ibis story now,
1 oil will find it of absorliing interest.
QUIPS AND QUIDDITIES
“Treat ’em honest, but treat 'em firm.”
That is the n utto of the wild west. At least,
so seine of our more bloodcurdling authors
would have us believe.
Ginger Jeff had been brought up before
the local court charged with some minor of
fense, and, as there was practically no evi
dence against him, Jeff wag rather »ur- .
prised when the judge exclaimed:
“Ye’re guilty. I reckon I’ll fine yc a
dollar.”
"Right. .ledge,” replied the Ginger gen
tleman, “but I'll have to borrow it offen ye.”
“Great snakes!” cried the worthy upholder
of lav and order. “It was only to get a dol
lar that I was fining ye. Get out! Ye
ain’t guilty anyway.”
The following Is a story told by IT. S,
B;> ion and retold by Harry Furnlss of a
costertnon L'cr who thought ho would enjoy
his holiday taking a walk through the west
e '- Mr. Byron, I dress myself up
s‘:ff, and goes up Regency street. I was
a-lodkin’ at some photergraafs jn a shop
window when a swell bloke wid a lydy on.
nis arm giv- s me a shove and sends my
ead clean through that ‘ere winder. Did I
-'■i.iss and swear? Did I use bad language?
-\o, I remember w’ere ? l was, so with the
blood a’l a-streamin’ down my face I rose
m y ’at i • s, '] beg your par
ding.’ That’s all I says, 'f beg your par
ding.’ 1 crushed ini with breedin’!”